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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Woman's Will: 

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3 £ote-§ top in Sfr<> jjlcfe, 

With Other Poems. 

O OOOOOOOOOOOOQOOOOOOO o oo o 

. . BY . . . 

Harry Lyman Koopman. 

OOOOOQOOOOOOOOOOOOOO O O O O 

MOULTON, WENBORNE & CO , 
Buffalo. 

i 888. 
• • • 



Woman's Will, 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



By the same Author. 

ORESTES, AND OTHER POEMS. 

i6mo, Cloth, pp. 192, Beveled Edges, Price, $1.00. 



NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 



From The Critic, NlfW York. 
" Mr. Koopman may be said, in spite of a certain bookishness, which is 
allied to affectation, to have 'the root of the matter' in him. He has a 
strong hold upon the eternal verities, ami a high ideal of the poet's calling." 
From The Current, Chicago. 
" Our author possesses an unusual share of ' those brave translunary 
things that the first poets had;' his little book is as full of music as an 
aviary." 

From the Pilot, Boston. 
" ' The Great Admiral ' is a line, bold lyric. ' The Pirate Horse-Car' is 
the best piece of fooling among the humorous poems, which, like the 
serious ones, show plenty of originality in thought and expression." 

From the Buffalo Sunday News. 
" The verses are very fitly set. They have a broad range — from classic 
themes to commonplace, and all are treated with fitness, often with rare 
dignity, tenderness or imaginative power." 

From the Library Journal , New York. 
" The book contains within its 192 pages many fine specimens of genuine 
poetry. ' Orestes ' is happily conceived in the classical spirit, and drawn in 
terse and vigorous poetic diction." 

From the Boston Daily Advertiser. 
" When a young maker of verses strives, consciously or unconsciously, 
after the spirit and form of such masters as Emerson and Tennyson, it is 
surely something that his work should seem an imitation and not a parody." 
From the Book Record, New York. 
" These poems could not be called wonderful, but many are worthy. 
The first, ' Orestes,' is the best and is highly dramatic." 
Fro/n The University, New York. 
" A most pleasant collection of original poems and translations." 

From The American, Philadelphia. 
" His poems belong to the class that show a cultivated, appreciative 
mind, trained by literature and reflection to enjoy the poetic and meditative 
view of life and nature, and lured thereby to set in the tempting, beautifying 
frame of verse his thoughts and impressions." 

From the Burlington [Vt.) Free Press and Times. 
" Mr. Koopman's verse is flowing, much of it graceful, some of it finished 
and genuinely poetical, some of it fragmentary and fugitive, all easy to 
read and understand." 

From the University Cynic, Burlington, Vt. 
" ■ Orestes ' resembles somewhat in its plot the ' Electra of Sophocles,' 
but is original in manner of treatment. ' The Death of Guinevere' is par- 
ticularly worthy of mention." 



WOMAN'S WILL: 



A LOVE-PLAY IN FIVE ACTS, 



WITH OTHER POEMS. 



n}r bv 



HARRY LYMAN KOOPMAN. 



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( 0^ 181888 )), 

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MOULTON, WENBORNE & C(X>-^^ H ' NGT ^. 
Buffalo. 



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CorYRIGHT, l888, BY H. L. KoOPMAN. 



Stage-rights withheld. 



TO MISS FLORENCE WICKES. 



Princess, if in Ethel's face 
Features of thine own thou trace, 
Or, in Ethel's heart and mind, 
Limnings caught from thee thou find; 
Be not startled, Sweet, I pray thee, — 
Hues so dull will ne'er betray thee. 
July 26th, 1S88. Burlington, Vermont. 



Woman's Will. 



CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY. 



HARLAN, a prince. 

Egbert, son of Emeric. 

Em ERIC, a nobleman. 
ARTHUR, a prince. 
ELDRED, a general. 
RANULF, nephew of the king. 

King. 
Earl. 

BAREND, page to Emeric. 
ETHEL, sister of Egbert. 

Winifred. 
Queen. 

Lords, ladies, soldiers and attendants. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 



ACT I. 
SCENE i. 

A grove. Maidens in white dance on the greensward, form- 
ing a ring about Ethel, and sing. 

To his loved one piped the swallow, 

Love, come. 
'Tis better to fly and follow, 

Love, come. 

Love, why tarriest ? 
The rocky wall is best, 

The cliff and high-built nest, 
Love, come. 

The brooklet sighed to the sunlight, 

Love, come. 
For my heart is cold and unlight, 

Love, come. 
With icy pall oppressed, 

1 cry with laden breast, 
O Love, why tarriest ? 

Love, come. 



I 1 



2 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

The violet sobbed to the southwind, 

Love, come. 
As the rain-wind come, or the drouth-wind, 

Love, come. 
And, in thine arms caressed, 
Uplift and make me blest, 
O Love, why tarriest? 

Love, come. 

Ethel. 

Enough ! The sun begins to print the sward 

With shadowy leaves. The bluebird's song is hushed. 

Let also ours be still. 'Neath yonder trees 

Are turfy seats thick piled with velvet moss, 

And roots high twisted into oaken chairs, 

And thrones of hollowed rock. There will we sit, 

And one shall tell a tale of hardihood, 

And honor, and the old, heroic love. 

At the beginning of Ethel's speech the maidens break up 
the dance, and at the end they go out irregularly. Just as they 
disappear, Harlan enters. 

Harlan. 

Was it not here? I surely did not dream ! 
O gold-bright face, which never but in dream, 
Waking or sleeping, might I see before, 
Now have I seen in truth ; the face my heart, 
Hungering for beauty with its earliest throbs, 
Yet never finding, by a vision stamped, 
To°k, as the bright gold for a sea-queen coined 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 3 

Takes majesty and beauty at a blow, 

And evermore disdains a meaner form. 

But, now I've seen its fair original, 

The minted gold is dull and fashionless. 

For here I saw it, by this very oak, 

And heard therewith so sweet a melody 

It seemed her form had twined itself with sound. 

That music was no call of singing birds, 

Much less the chirp of leaves or creak of boughs ; 

It cried, " Love, come," and " Love, why tarriest ? ' ' 

That was no dream. — Yonder it calls again. 

Yea, Love, I come ; O Love, I tarry not. 

He goes out. 

SCENE 2. 

The maidens scattered about the grove, sitting or standing. 
Harlan enters at the left, and, at the same time, RANULF, with 
soldiers, at the right. 

Harlan to Ethel. 

Divinest among women, if indeed 

Thou art not all divine, I, least in worth, 

But not the least in love and loyalty, 

Pledge thee the service of my sword, and wait 

Thine absolute commands. 

RANULF striking Harlan. 

Be still, base churl. 
Another word, and 1 will strike thee down, 
imptuOUS thrall ! 



4 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Harlan. 

Look rather to thyself. 

They tight, and in a moment RANULF is slain. Harlan 
slips in making his last stroke, and the soldiers rush upon him 
from behind and bind him. They lead him away, and bear off 
the body of RANULF. The ladies follow confusedly; Ethel 
lingers. 

Ethel. 

Oh, bitter ending of a beauteous day ! 

Alas, proud man, how quickly thou wast slain ! 

Now breathing, moving, speaking, combating, 

And now a clod. — He had a noble face. 

How like a flame his sword flew from its sheath ! 

I wist not what he said, and yet I think 

He spake to me. It all was done so soon. 

He praised me, did he not ? and offered me 

His warrior service. But I know him not. 

I wonder why he spake to me. His eyes 

Burned as he talked. I never was so looked at 

By any man before ; yet I have heard 

Men speak of love, and men have called me fair. 

But they will kill him, for he slew the prince. 

But me, — I wonder why he spake to me. 

She goes out. 



A WO MAX'S WILL. 5 

SCENE 3. 

The King and Queen on their throne, lords and guardsmen 
about. An Earl enters. 

Earl. 

king, I know not how to speak the speech. 

- morn, as we at thy command attended 
The ladies at their greenwood revelry, 
A stranger broke upon them. He addressed 
With speech familiar the lady Ethel ; 
Prince Ranulf, stepping forward to chastise 
His insolence, — My liege, I can no more. 

King. 

Go on ! He slew the intruder, thou wouldst say. 

Earl. 

. great king, by him the prince was slain. 

King. 

Jkst not, I bid thee. Tell me what befell, 

And then keep silence. 

Earl. 

I have told thee truth. 

King. 

slew the murderer? 

Earl. 

My lord, he lives. 



6 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

King. 

Brought ye him bound ? 

Earl. 

He is held bound without. 

King. 

Go, bring him in. He shall be straightway sentenced, 
His death shall follow swift and terrible. 
The Earl goes out, and IIaki.an is led in bound. 

Kino. 

Art thou the villain that has done this deed ? 

Harlan. 

I am no villain, nor have I done aught 
A knight may blush to own. 

King. 

A knight sayest thou ? 
And yet didst offer rudeness unto ladies. 
For this thou shalt be tortured grievously. 

Harlan. 

Rudeness, to ladies offered, and by me ! 
They lied that told thee. That I did approach 
Those ladies I confess; but 'twas with mien 
Of most profound respect ; and I acknowledge 
That with profoundest homage I bespake 
The fairest maid among them ; after that 
All I remember is, that a churl's voice 



A WO MAX'S WILL. 7 

Berated me, and therewith came a blow, 
And then I fought with one o'ertopping me, 
And slew him ; and with that last stroke I slipped, 
And, ere I could recover, was o'erborne 
By armed men, and bound ; and so am here. 

King. 

And hence shalt thou be haled forth to the rack. 

The Queen kneels before the throne. 

Queen. 

My gracious lord, I beg a gift of thee. 

King. 

Sweet queen, is this a time to sue for gifts ? 

Thou knowest I can deny thee naught ; yet, prithee, 

Choose out another time for thy request. 

Queen. 

It must be granted now or not at all, 

And, if not granted, then thou lovest me not. 

King. 

What prophet can foretell a woman's whims? 
Have then thy will ; but, since I grant it thfee, 
Perhaps thou wilt do me the grace, in turn, 
To name the gift. 

Queen. 

k but this man's life. 



8 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

King. 

Oh, that I gave my promise ! Knowest thou not, 
That he hath slain the prince, my brother's son. 

Qui 

My lord, that he hath slain the prince is true, 
But true, no less, that him the prince attacked, 
And, unprovoked, smote rudely, and then threatened, 
And, lastly, sought to slay him. 

King. 

Honored spouse, 
My word to thee I cannot break, nor yet 
Must I so lightly let my kinsman's blood 
Flow unavenged. Grant thou this stranger's life, 
But on such terms as he shall hardly meet. 
Give him some task that no man yet performed, 
Failing in which he must yield up his life. 

Queen. 

My lord, since so thy will is, I obey. 

Wilt thou bid loose him and then call him hither ? 

King. 

Unbind the stranger. Hither step, sir knight. 

Queen. 

Rash wanderer, thou hadst even now been slain, 
But for my pity that a flame so clear 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 9 

Should be snuffed out and never light the world. 
Tell me thy name and race, and from what land, 
On what strange quest thy feet have hither strayed. 

Harlan. 

My father is the king of all the South. 

I am his only son, Harlan my name ; 

And from the Southland I have hither come 

On love's high quest ; ard, if I do not err, 

I have no more to go. Here ends my search. 

Queen. 

I have not promised thee thy freedom yet. 
Ere thou art free thou must perform me that 
Which will demand of thee more than thy sword. 

Harlan. 

I do not fear thy task. Name it, fair queen. 

Queen. 

Thou shalt go forth, and one year from to-day 
Thou shalt return, and either tell me this, 
What woman most desires, or yield thy life. 

Harlan. 

A year ! But now I reckoned life by hours, 
A day I then had deemed eternity ; 
And now thou gran test me a year, twelve months, 
In every month four goodly weeks, each week 
Of seven long fruitful days for high achievement; 



io A WOMAN'S WILL. 

And, after all, I doubt not to perform 

The task, and win my life. Most gracious queen, 

With grateful homage I accept thy terms. 

King. 
What is there equal to a woman's whim ? 

ACT II. 

SCENE i. 

A room in EMERIC'S palace. EMERJC seated. Ethel, near a 
window, broidering. 

EM ERIC. 

My daughter, come and take this seat beside me, 
For I have something I would say to thee. 

Ethel. 

I have no greater pleasure than to listen, 
Whenever, in his wisdom and his love, 
My father may be pleased to 'speak to me. 

Emeric. 

Dear daughter, thou art now of woman's years, — 
At least my eyes and reason tell me so ; 
Though to my memory it is but an hour 
Since first they laid thee in mine arms, and said 
Thou wast my child. How like thy mother's brow ! 
The sunshine always seems to fall upon it ; 
And with the sunshine truly art thou crowned. 






A JVC MAX'S WILL. n 

It rays its beams as if their gold would fill 
The deep noon of thine eyes. That smile was hers. 
It drew me more than welded chains, and bound me 
In fetters welcomer than liberty. — 
But, what I called thee for was not thy praise, 
But speech of weighty import to our house. 
My child, the time has come for thee to wed. 
Already have three suitors sought thy hand : 
The first, a prince, handsome and high in honor, 
Heir to the throne of Estland, Arthur, he ; — 
The second, older, and of battle-fame, 
Eldred, the leader of our sovereign's hosts; 
In war a lion, but in bowers of peace 
Gracious, and sought of many a noble dame. 
Between these two thou hast indeed a choice 
That cannot miss of honor, but thou hast 
Therewith a third, which many would deem worthiest ; 
For Clovic, the rich merchant from the East, 
Hath proffered suit for thee, and sent therewith 
Rare gems and silks, a queen might envy thee. 
Thou hearest me, my daughter, but thy face 
Lightens not at my words. Dost thou ask more? 
Thou surely art not prouder than thy sire. 

Ethel. 

Nay, father, pride here enters not at all. 
It is not pride that makes me hear unmoved 
What rather would move pride to deference. 
Thou namest wealth and power and sovereignty, 



A 

All which I duly hold in high regard, 
All which I must admire, but cannot love. 
Dear father, can I give my heart to gold ? 
What is there in a sword to stir my pulse ? 
Or in a throne, that I should leave thy side ? 
Can I bestow myself and not my love ? 

Emeric. 

My daughter, I spake not as slighting love, 
But as enhancing it ; among three men, 
Well-born and brave and noble, must be one 
That thou canst love. Yet is the question not 
Whom thou canst love, but rather who loves thee. 
For love with woman comes in wedded life ; 
She learns to love ; but man loves first or never. 
And thou must not forget that, with the great, 
Other considerations in a match 
Than youthful fancy must obtain regard. 
The great wed not as simple men and women. 
Their greatness also weds. I trust my child 
Does not forget what blood is in her veins. 

Ethel. 

That I am Emeric' s daughter is an honor 
Too great for me one moment to forget ; 
But I am Egbert's sister. — Dearest brother, 
Where in the wide world bend thy steps to-day ?- 
And more than brother was he ever to me, 
I more to him than sister ; and we promised 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 13 

Neither should wed without the other's wish. 
He now is far away, and must I wed 
Without his knowledge even ? He return, — 
Would he might now return ! — and find me gone, 
A stranger's bride ? O father, say not so. 

Emeric. 

My daughter, I have given forth my word 
That one of thy three suitors thou shalt choose, 
Or show sufficient reasons for refusal. 
So pledged I, confident I did not act 
Against my daughter's welfare. Dear my child, 
My years are moretnine, my love to thee 
More than my love to all the world beside. 

1 Ethel. 

Father, as duty leads me, I obey. Emeric goes out. 
Yet reasons, ah ! I must not fail to find 
Sufficient reasons why I should not choose. 

SCENE 2. 

The audience room of Emeric Ethel and Emeric seated. 
Barend in waiting. Prince ARTHUR enters with attendants. 

Emeric. 

Welcome, most noble prince. My house is honored 
By this high presence. Welcome, good my lords. 



14 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 



Arthur. 

Most great and honored earl, my purpose here 
Is known to thee ; and thou to me hast deigned 
Kindly assurance that I do not stand 
Wholly without thy favor. But thy message 
Imparted that the furtherance of my suit 
Lies wholly in the hands of her it seeks. 

Emeric. 

Such is my will ; and, if thy purpose hold 
My family so high to set in honor, 
Here will my daughter listen to thy suit. 

Arthur. 

Unto the fairest the un worthiest 

Worthily kneels ; yet in another land, 

A mighty kingdom parting the two seas, 

I am the greatest of all them that serve, 

And heir to all men's service. Hosts are mine, 

Or will be mine, and ships that bridge the sea \ 

Palaces, one for every changing month, 

And every hall a bower for love's delight. 

There princesses await thee to forestall 

The wish before it rises to thy lips \ 

For all this goodly heritage of bliss 

I offer unto thee and thee alone. 

O lady, sole star shining in my heart, 

Lo ! here I wait thy gracious, queenly choice. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 15 

Ethel. 

That I am honored far beyond my worth, 
Most noble prince, I gratefully confess. 
But, if thou wilt indulge me, ere I answer, 
I too would proffer suit. May I presume ? 

Arthur. 

Strange were it such a pleader did not win ! 
Lady, I listen only to consent. 

Ethel. 

I prithee hear me first. My plea is this : 
The matter of the ambassage thou bringest 
Regarding certain ships reported seized ; — 
Thou knowest my father is to thee opposed 
As minister of our most gracious king, 
Him representing in this high dispute. 
Wouldst thou, to gain my hand, so favor me, 
In honoring my father, as to yield 
Thy kingdom's claim, and let the contest lapse ? 

Arthur. 

Love rules all things. To please thee I will yield, 
For may I with mine own not work my will? 

Ethel. 

Then will I wed thee not. My love can go 

Only to him that places before love, 

Yea, before all things, honor. So I choose. 



16 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

SCENE 3. 

Night. Porch of a palace. Eldred comes in. 

Eldred. 

The slave has played me false. His coward neck 

Shall wring for this. Checkmated by a clown ! 

Hallo ! 

Barend, entering. 

My lord, I come upon the stroke. 

Eldred. 

And saved thyself a stroke by coming on't. 

Out with the business. Yesterday she heard 

Suit of Prince Arthur. He to-day sailed back, 

His embassy unfinished ; briefly summoned 

By the old king, his father; so 'tis given ; 

And well his hasty flight confirms thy tale. 

I find no fault with this, but with the way 

In which thou sayest she rejected him ; 

'Tis that I like not. But despatch ! How fared it 

This morning with Sir Longpurse, him o' the gold, 

And vulture's beak upon a pigeon's heart ? 

Have the gems won her ? Did she lisp and say 

She would be Madam Buzzard ? Art thou dumb ? 

Barend. 

My lord, I haste to speak. He fared but ill. 
It was the same scene over. First he scraped, 
Then leered, then smirked, and, lastly, offered her 
His gold, his ships, his stores, his lands, — his heart. 



A WO MAX'S WILL. 17 

Eldred. 

His heart, ho ! ho ! and did he offer with it 
A rind of mustard seed to house it in ? 

Barend. 

She made short work of him. She wrung from him 

That he had promised to the Estland king 

Vast sums of money in the event- of war ; 

Then asked if he, to crown her father's skill, 

And so please her in honoring her sire, 

Would break his plighted faith, refuse the gold, 

Taking for his reward her hand in marriage. 

Of course the money-lender promised her, 

And then she spurned him. She's a very devil. 

Heaven keep me free from such a shrew as that ? 

Eldred. 

Peace, fool ! But couldst thou learn of any purpose 

In these refusals? I feel noway sure. 

'Twould look as if she scorned them, choosing me; 

And yet I fear her. Did she drop no word 

To hint a purpose ? 

Barend. 

No, not one, unless — 
Eldred. 
Well, what? Out with it. 

Barend. 

I do fear, my lord. 
'Twas but a trifle. What it meant I know not. 



1 8 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Eldred. 

This dagger shall unlock that throat of thine 
Unless thou speakest. 

Barend. 

I beseech thee, sir, 
Remember that the words are hers, not mine. 
When Clovic and his suite had left the room, 
I heard her give a sigh as if relieved, 
Then murmur to herself: "One more is left, 
And then I shall be free." I know not what 
The words might mean. 

Eldred. 

'Tis well thou dost not know. 

If thou shalt breathe a whisper of this speech 

To any soul, dog of a slave, thou diest. 

Begone ! 

Barend goes out. 

That cursed temper of the wench 
I like not. She needs taming. No, I think 
I like it after all. It will be sport 
To clip those claws, and make that proud head cringe. 
I know thy trick. To-morrow thou shalt see 
A man the soul of honor, whom not the world, 
With all its baubles, wealth, nor power, nor love, 
Could ever bend from the most rigid line 
Of honor's path. Our cue is "honorable." 






A WOMAN'S WILL. 19 

SCENE 4. 

The audience room of Emeric, as before. Eldred and his 
attendants have entered. 

Eldred. 

Most puissant lord, when first I urged my suit 

For yon fair hand, as I was bold to do, 

Thou answeredst me thy daughter should make choice 

Among three men, of whom myself was one. 

Yesterday sailed Prince Arthur over sea ; 

To-day the worthy Clovis hath embarked, 

While I, the third, here now present myself. 

Though, as a man of honor, I should not wish 

The lady's hand to go without her heart, 

Nay, rather, would with all my power prevent it, 

Yet me love prompts, relying on thy word, 

To deem the lady Ethel hath refused 

My rivals out of preference for me. 

Hope I too rashly, looking for such grace ? 

Emeric. 
Not rashly, honored sir, but naturally, 
Seeing my daughter hath rejected those 
That stood before thee. If a man makes choice 
Of one from three, and two are reckoned out, 
The third must needs be chosen. Noble sir, 
I promised thee that from among you three 
My daughter should select one for her spouse ; 
Except on this condition, that she showed 
Sufficient reasons for refusing all. 



20 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Knowing no cause that should discredit thee, 
I wait to see her own thy rightful claim. 

Eldred. 

How sayest the lady Ethel ? Is her hand 
Ready to meet the hand I proffer her ? 

Ethel. 

My lord, as yet I know not any cause 
Why I should not accept thine offered suit. 
Well should I deem her happy that might call 
Eldred, the famous general, her husband. 
Yet, since I would not give my hand unless 
I knew my heart should never wish it back, 
I would, if might be, test thy love. Pray tell me 
If thou dost love me so much that for me 
Thou wilt forsake, forget all other love, 
Yea, though thy love were plighted to another, 
Not even that should bind thee, but thou wouldst, 
For me, give up and leave her utterly. 
Ask I too much, or do I set too high 
A standard of devotion for a man ? 
Perhaps not so, and yet too much for me. 
Aside. 

This works not as before. I greatly fear 

That he will stand the test and I must wed him. 

Eldred. 

Lady, strange terms thou namest \ such as I, — 
Permit me to speak plainly, — would not hear 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 21 

From any other lips. Fair as thou art, 
And fairest art thou among women born, 
Not at such cost would I secure thy love. 

Ethel. 
Then dost thou love me not ? 
Eldred. 

Lady, I love thee 
All man in honor may. More would be less. 

Ethel. 

Then, noble sir, thou hast absolved me from 
All reason why I should reject thy hand. 
So, as my father bids me, here do I — 
Winifred rushes in and throws herself at Emeric's feet. 

Winifred. 

Justice, great sir, justice against this man ! 

Eldred. 

The devil ! Winifred, how earnest thou here ? 
Sir, I know not this woman. 'Tis some trick 
To cheat me of thy daughter's promised hand. 

Emeric. 
Thou already hast condemned thyself. 
Thou knowest her ; but, if thou knewest her not, 
No man shall ever say that I or mine 
Have played him false, whatever his excuse, 
And hold my friendship. Go ! Not if thou wert 



22 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Ten thousand times thyself, shouldst thou obtain 
My daughter's hand, after a slur like that. 
Eldrkd and his suite go out. 

Now, lady, tell us who thou art. Nay, rise, 
Thou seest none but friends. 

Winifred. 

Most noble sir, 
I am the hapless Winifred, who loved 
The general Eldred, and who thought herself 
By him beloved in turn. 

Ethel. 

The lady Winifred ! 
She died a year ago. Oh ! she is mad. 

Winifred. 

Lady, I am .not mad, but I am she. 

I knew not whether men proclaimed me dead, 

I only knew that I was dead to earth. 

Lord Eldred wooed me, quickly won my heart 

With his fair speeches and his seeming love. 

But when we were to wed \ yea, when I thought 

The morrow should have seen me crowned a bride, 

I was borne off at night by masked men, 

And carried hastily o'er unknown ways 

Into a land I knew not, to a castle 

Where all these months I was a prisoner, 

High in a tower ; and there should now have been, 






A WOMAN'S WILL. 23 

Had not a wandering knight, as once I sang, 

Heard my sad voice, and with an arrow shot 

In at my casement offered me his help. 

That night he climbed, but how I cannot tell, 

Up to my window. There he heard my tale, 

And, hearing, promised, on his knightly faith, 

To rescue me, and bear me to what land 

I wished to go ; and knowing here had come 

Lord Eldred, I besought him lead me here. 

He entered not the city, but without 

Left me ; and when I asked how I might pay 

His timely service, bade me answer him 

This question : " What a woman most desires? " 

That moment I said "Justice," though I think — 

Why, lady, dost thou know him ? 

Ethel. 

Nay, go on. 
I pray thee tell me further of thy life. 

Winifred. 

But little more remains. I heard one say 
Lord Eldred on this morning proffered suit 
To Emeric's daughter, and I hastened here, 
To save her, as I thank just heaven I have. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! I will join thy thanks. But one word more, 
And I should have accepted him I hate. 
But said the knight no more? 



24 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Winifred. 

No more, but, turning, 
I saw him wave a kiss toward a grove 
That stands without the town. I wondered at it, 
Yet marked it well. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! thou shalt be to me 
A sister, and shalt teach me, wilt thou not? 
That song that in the tower drew his steps ? 

Winifred. 

Lady, I will, but do not ask me now, 
My poor voice is too tremulous with joy. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! no, not now, for thou art travel- worn 
And sick with many sorrows ; but thy griefs 
Shall trouble thee no more, my sister dear. 

ACT III. 

SCENE i. 

A room in Emeric's palace. Ethel and Winifred. 

Winifred. 

How plain it all comes out ! In mine own land 
Much had I heard of Lady Ethel's beauty; 
And now I see it, marvel not it drew 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 25 

Lord Eldred's thoughts away from my poor self. 

If he had told me that he loved thee more, 

I wonder what I should have done. Such love 

Had I for him, I would have done aught else ; — 

Should I have yielded place to thee ? I know not. 

He clearly thought not so ; and, since he scarce 

Could openly cast me off, he had me seized, 

Borne far away, and given out for dead. 

Then he was free to pay his court to thee. 

Hadst thou rejected him before I came, 

Would he have then returned to me ? If so, 

And I had known naught of his treachery, 

I should have loved him still, although I knew 

I was a prisoner by his command. 

He would have told some tale and I believed it. 

But now I wonder that I ever loved him. 

He bears no quality that stirs my love. 

Henceforth I will love only thee. To men 

My heart is locked, and thou shalt keep the key. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! dost thou love me so? Before thou earnest, 
I wandered lonely, with no friend to love, 
None to love me, and share my heart's best life. 
More than my friend, my sister, art thou now ; 
And we will naught withhold of all our lives. 
But, dear, that song that thou didst promise me, 
Wilt thou not sing it now ? 



26 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Winifred. 

Oh ! it was naught ; 
The merest trifle. It was more my sobs 
Than what I sang that drew the noble knight ; 
And they are now forgot. But, if thou wilt, 
Reach me thy lute, and I will sing the song. 

Come, sorrow, come, 
For love is dead. 
Glad lips, be dumb, 
For love is dead. 
Come, shy and darkling sorrow ; 
Delight shall know no morrow. 
Love is dead. 

Flow, tear-drops, flow, 
For love is dead. 
Blithe heart, beat low, 
For love is dead. 
No joy shall stir thy pulses, 
Sad heart, which pain convulses. 
Love is dead. 

Die, bright hopes, die, 

For love is dead. 
Beside him lie, 

For love is dead. 
Where true-love lies interred, 
Oh ! let me too be buried. 
Love is dead. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 27 



Ethel. 



Before I heard thee sing I wondered how 

A song could have such power to summon help; 

But, now I have heard thee, I wonder rather 

The very trees did not stretch out their arms 

To let thee down and shelter thee from ill. 

But I could never sing so. On my lips 

Thy song would hardly move a menial's praise. 

Oh ! come here to the window. How the birds 

Carol beneath the dewy April dawn ! 

The sky is one blue gem ; the sward a brooch 

Of diamonds upon an emerald ground. 

The leaves peep forth. The little brook steams up, 

As if hard breathing with its sudden haste. 

Look, out beyond the gate a beggar comes, 

Ragged and footsore, leaning on a staff. 

He hastens now, and eyes the towers as if 

He looked to find here comfort and relief. 

Oh ! there rush out the hounds, the cruel beasts ! 

They will not slay him, but will worry him. 

The hunters set them on. Oh, hearts of stone, 

Who laugh to see the terror of the wretch ! 

Foremost rush those two bloodhounds latest bought. 

I'll look no more. 

Winifred. 

O sister, look again. 
Just as the two leaped at him the whole pack 
Sprang upon them, and slew them in a Hash ; 



28 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

And now they fawn upon him. There, he waves 
His hand toward me. 

Ethel. 

O sister, let me look. 
I know that step. It is my brother. 

Waves her handkerchief to him. 

Dear, 
I cannot wait. Egbert, Egbert has come. 

She rushes out. 

Winifred. 

Her brother ! Why, she never said before 
She had a brother. Oh ! that spoils my hopes. 
I do not like these brothers. I am sure 
That I shall like her brother least of all. 
For he will scorn me, and will steal away 
Her love from me. I will not meet him now. 

She goes out. 

SCENE 2. 

The same. Emeric and Ethel come in with Egbert newly 
clad. 

Ethel. 

But, brother, why is this ? Where are the rest : 
Thy noble comrades that went forth with thee 
To seek new wars? — as if there were not wars 
Enough without going forth to seek for them. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 29 

Egbert. 

How sayest thou ? Have none of them returned ? 

wretch ! Have I alone of all escaped ? 
How should I merit this ? 

Emeric. 

Xay, praised be God, 
Who hath returned thee safe into mine arms. 
Yet how befell it that ye prospered not ? 

Egbert. 

We joined the island king as we had planned, 

And were set high in honor in his host ; 

A prize that cost us dear. For, when the shock 

Of battle smote on his outnumbered force, 

Its great wave rolled quite over all the van, 

And swallowed us, but not before our swords 

Had made a crimson eddy in its tide. 

But all in vain. The crested wave rolled on 

And swept beyond us, and the field was lost. 

Then we that lived were dragged away in triumph. 

Four months a dungeon I endured. One day 

1 was led forth, as I supposed, to die ; 
But only, as I found, to be conveyed 
Unto a grislier fortress in the hills. 

My hands were bound behind me, and I walked 
With twelve strong spearmen hedging me about. 
Yoi> well may guess my thoughts were on escape ; 
And every clump and glen and woodland path 



30 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

I scanned with eager eyes, as if its depths 
Might hide some shelter or release for me. 
It was high noon, and I was footsore, choked, 
And sick at heart. I thought we soon must halt ; 
When, looking up, I saw a single knight 
Armed only with a sword. He had stood still, 
As if to let us pass, but, seeing me, 
He seemed to know me, and sprang forth and cried 
With awful voice, " Where do ye lead this man?" 
The leader of the twelve stepped back. Then I 
Made out to falter, '■ Good sir, save thyself; 
Thou canst not save us both." The soldiers then 
Couched spears and started on. I cannot tell 
The deeds that followed, for I saw and knew, 
Yet stood as one in dream. At last a sword 
Passed through my bonds ; I saw four spearmen flee ; 
Then heard a cheery voice say, " Brother knight, 
'Twere best to arm thyself and fly with me. 
Yon couriers will bring an answer soon." 
So to the hills we sped, and there for weeks 
Dodged their pursuit, and ever worked our way 
Homeward by stealth ; — so I at length am here. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! praised be God ! But, what of the good knight? 
I think I see him, a scarred warrior, 
Grizzled and huge, and, even in his smiles, 
More terrible than gentle. Were he here, 
I would go clasp his hand, and with my tears 
Thank him for giving me my brother safe. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 31 

Egbert. 

Poor fellow, it's a pity thou canst not. 
'Twould make a pretty tableau \ Ethel here, 
Springtime in blossom, we will say ; the knight, 
Winter, with snows of maybe twenty years ; 
His black eyes burning as I saw them burn, 
When first he spoke to me of thee. 

Ethel. 

Of me! 
Who ? I was talking of the good old knight 
That saved thy life. 

Egbert. 

And I of the good youth 
That rescued me. He is as young as I, 
And not so tail. His hair is black as jet. 
Almost the first words that he said to me 
Were these: " I do not think I should have dared, 
Hadst thou not looked like her. ' ' And when I asked, 
And found out who this wondrous she might be, — 

Emeric. 

My children, I must leave you now. I know 
Ye have a thousand little confidences. 
I am content to know my son is here. 

Ethel. 

But what was thy knight doing? Had some quest 
Led him into that country ? 



32 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Egbert. 

Yes, he had 
The craziest errand ever man went on : 
To find out — bless the mark ! — what woman wants. 
I think he will be gray before he knows. 
But oh ! my sister dear, how glad am I 
To find thee here my sister as before, 
Not carried off to be some lordling's wife ! 
Thou spoil'st all other women, or spoil'st me 
For them. I wish no other happiness 
Than to live here and have thee with me still. 

Ethel. 

flatterer ! But yet, for all thy words, 
Before I know it, I shall see thee wed. 

EGBERT. 

Sister, thou wilt not see me wed, unless 
Thou first desert me. Then, in self-defense, 
Or disappointment, I may choose a mate 
To make my life less lonesome. 

Ethel. 

Wilt thou swear it ? 

1 do not think I shall believe it else. 

Egbert. 

I swear it on my faith. No other woman 
Can ever call me from my sister's side ; 






A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Nor was there ever woman in the world 

Thy lightest whisper would not draw me from. 

Ethel. 

Well, we shall see. Thou hast another sister 
To please thee now ; one worthier than I. 

Egbert. 

What dost thou mean ? 

Ethel. 

That I have found a friend, 
Beautiful, sweet, who is my sister sworn, 
And must be thine too. 

Egbert. 

Humph! I want no other. 
What is she like? But, then, I do not care; 
1 shall not fancy her. 

Ethel. 

Oh ! yes, thou wilt. 
Her voice is like the sound that comes when bel Is 
Have ended ringing. She has wondrous hands, 
Which can make all things beautiful to see. 
Her hair is like the darkness, and her eyes 
Shine like two deep and starlit mountain lakes, 
When the low moon is hid. Like her! I know 
That thou wilt love her. 



j>j> 



34 a woman's will. 

Egbert. 

Thou art quite too bad. 
An Ethiop! I thank thee; none for me. 
Now thou mayst go and see thy black-a-moor. 

I'm not so dainty; gold will do for me. 

I [e kisses her hair and goes out. 

SCENE 3. 

Same. Winifred seated by a window, drawing in a vellum- 
bound book. 

Winifred. 

Thus far I've 'scaped him bravely. Oh! he's not 

So very bad, at least as brothers go. 

Just now, when he went striding down the lawn, 

He looked, — dear me ! the likeness will not come. 

The tower is good ; the trees" stood so around ; 

But, when I try to draw the noble knight, 

It looks more like, — no, this is how he stood. 

She draws intently. EGBERT comes in. 

Egbert. 

I think that here I shall be safe from her. 

Who can it be ? Is this, — let me not breathe, 

Lest I disturb her and she take to flight. 

Oh, how divinely droop those veils of jet ! 

What eyes they must conceal ! I will speak to her, 

And then she will look up ; mayhap will smile. 



A WO MAX'S WILL. 35 

Lady, I fear I do intrude. I knew not 
That any one was here. I will withdraw. 

Winifred, startled, lets fall her book. 
Winifred. 

Lord Egbert is most welcome. It is I 
Am the intruder. 

EGBERT, picking up the book. 

Lady, I beseech 
That I may not disturb thee ; if I do, 
Truly I never shall forgive myself. 
Much had my sister told me of the skill 
Her friend the beauteous Winifred possesses. 
Were it too bold in me to ask for leave 
To look upon her lovely handiwork? 
Alas ! I interrupt. Lady, I go. 

Winifred. 

'Twould ill repay Lord Egbert's looking at, 
The poor daub I have sketched, but, if he will, 
It lies before him. 

Egbert. 

How divinely fair ! 
It is the life itself. Yon fortress glooms, 
As if its weight would crush the looker's heart. 
The knight here in the foreground, with the sword, — 
I surely know him. 'Tis my rescuer, 
The noble Harlan. 



36 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Winifred. 

Oh ! dost thou know him ? 
Thy rescuer, as he was mine ! Oh ! speak 
And tell me of him. 

Egbert. 

Gracious lady fair, 
If I so interrupt, I must not stay. 
Oh ! might I see thee now complete thy task. 
I always liked old castles, most of all 
A castle in a wood. The light is bad. 
Is that not better? 

Winifred. 

Very much, my lord. 
I have but just a line or two to add, 
And, if I may go on, — 

E<;i:ert. 

Do so, I pray, 
And let me see the picture thou wilt make. 

Aside. 
How art would limp that tried to picture her ! 

Ethel starts to enter, but stops at the door unnoticed, on 
seeing the pair. 

Ethel. 

Brother, I did not look to see thee here. — 
Perhaps that whisper was too low ! — Thy pardon, 
Dear brother, but I came to ask of thee, — 
Still deaf ! — Dear Egbert, wilt thou answer me ? 






A WO MAX'S WILL. 37 

Winifred. 

My lord, thy lady sister speaks to thee. 

Egbert. 

Oh! speak again. How words become thy lips! 
Nay, keep that smile. 

ETHEL, laying her hand on his shoulder. 

Brother, this is too bad. 
Thrice have I called thee and thou hast not heard ; 
And still thou starest. It is I, thy sister. 

Egbert. 

Oh ! Ethel, pray excuse me. I must go. 
I have important business at the court. 

He goes out. 
Ethel. 

So sits the wind ! They say a woman runs 
Only to be pursued. O naughty minx, 
To steal my brother's heart before my eyes ! 
I thought the house deserted ; Winifred 
Not to be found, and Egbert disappeared. 
I did not think to find you both at once. 
If I were not the best friend in the world, 
I think I should be jealous. Oh! I know, 
Of course it all means nothing. That's the way. 
But, out of nothing how much sometimes comes ! 

WlNIFR] i) steals out. 
I wish it, and yet half I wish it not. 
To me indeed comes nothing, but not thus. 



38 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE i. 

Porch of Emeric's palace. Moonlight. EGBERT and Wini- 
fred walking with their arms about each other. 

Winifred. 

When didst thou first begin to like me, dear ? 
It now is two whole weeks since thy return. 
When in that time didst thou first think of me ? 

Egbert. 

To like thee ? think of thee ? Oh, gracious heavens ! 
To call such love as mine by names like those ! 
Like thee ! I loved thee from my inmost soul 
The instant I beheld thee. Not a wink, 
Not the white sword-edge of a lightning flash, 
Could come between the time I knew thee not 
And the blest time when I was mad for thee. 
I lost my heart so quick I never knew 
That I had lost it, till, sometime next day, 
I tried to learn a hunting song by heart, 
And found I hadn't any. 

Winifred. 

Oh ! for shame, 
To trifle with me so, when thou knowest well 
I cannot hide my love. Before we own 
We love a man w r e have him for our slave ; 
After that fatal moment we are his. 






A WOMAN'S WILL. . 39 

Egbert. 

Thou speakest but to try me. Name the thing 
I will not do for thee, save only one. 

Winifred. 

Ah ! so there is one thing thou wilt not do. 
Well, well, a wom^n must learn, I suppose. 
But what is this rare thing, this sacrifice ? 
Tell me that I may try not wish for it. 

Egbert. 

I'd better not have mentioned it. I meant 
I gladly would do aught for thee save — wait. 

Winifred. 

Well, I will not detain thee. I am sure 
That I can find my way in without help. 

Egbert. 

tease, thou knowest I did not mean that. 

1 spoke of waiting till our wedding day. 

Winifred. 

( )h ! is that all ? I hope I shall not task 
patience too severely ; but indeed, 
>ng the favors I had thought to crave, 

That truly was not one. 

Egbert. 

Oh ! I must pay 

lips that spoke those words. We'll wed to-morrow. 



4 o A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Winifred. 

Impetuosity, thy name is man. 
I could not wed to-morrow. Oh ! I pray 
Be not so urgent. Let me have more time. 
Nay, set the utmost limit of thy patience, 
And that I promise not to go beyond. 

Egbert. 

Wilt promise, promise faithfully ? 
Winifred, 

I will. 

T ERT. 

The day after to-morrow. 

Winifred. 

Thou dost ■ 
Egbert. 

No, I speak sober earnest. Now, bethink, 
I have thy promise. 

Winifred. 

Oh ! I see no way 
For my escape. Well, if I must, I will. 

Egbert. 

Alas ! I never thought. I cannot wed 
Before my sister. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 41 

Winifred. 

Oh ! that is too bad. 
I mean I'm glad. But how should this be so ? 

Egbert. 

The day that I returned, being overjoyed 

To find my sister here, unwedded still, 

For we were always either' s dearest mate, 

I spoke my joy, and said no woman e'er 

Had drawn me from her side or ever should ; 

And when she laughed, and said I soon would leave her, 

I swore I never would till she were wed, 

Yea, swore upon my faith ; — and that is how. 

Winifred. 

But, has she not some lover ? Though she said 
We two should have no secrets, of one thing 
She hath not spoken. When I talk of love, 
She laughs or sighs and speaks of something else ; 
And yet, I almost think she is in love. 

i:rt. 

With whom? oh ! tell me. I will seek him out, 
Though he were sworn my foe ; and, if I find 
He does not hate her, she shall hear from him. 
Tell me his name. 

Winifred. 

Why, dear, I thought thou knewest, 
It is the noble Harlan. 



42 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Egbert. 

Of all men 
The very one that I should soonest choose ; 
And well f know he is in love with her. 
But, oh ! where shall I find him ? 

Winifred. 

What's to-day? 
Egbert. 

Tuesday. 

Winifred. 

I mean of the month. 

Egbert. 

The last but one. 
Winifred. 

Why, 'tis on May-day that the prince returns, 
To render of his quest. To-morrow night, 
I think, if thou shouldst walk within the grove 
That fronts the city gate, him thou wouldst find. 

Egbert. 

'Tis done. I'm sure that I shall find him there. 
Then on the morrow who knows what may hap ? 
But, sweet, the halved moon dips below the trees. 
Would I might clasp thee always ! but thine eyes 
I know are heavy ; and I must be kind 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 43 

As well as fond. Oh ! for the happy time 
When night shall part us even less than day. 

They go in. 

SCENE 2. 

A grove. Harlan comes in. 

Harlan. 

Oh ! blessed spot where first I saw her face. 

My heart leaps up at very sight of it. 

Ah ! where may she be now ? Wedded, I fear. 

Yea, may be certain of it. Such a prize 

Would scarcely go another year unwon. 

Yet hope will burn when reason is blown out. 

Oh, might I see her now and hear her voice ! 

Ethel comes in disguised as a witch. 

Ethel. 

Hold, sir knight, I have a word for thee. 

Harlan. 

Horrible creature, what have I to do 

With such as thou ? Thou knowest naught of me. 

Ethel. 

I know thy past and future. This is thrice 

Thou hast approached tins grove. Since the first time, 

Thou hast seen many lands, and hast slain men, 

And rescued captives. Two of them I see, 

A fair-haired youth, a dark-eyed maiden fair. 



44 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Harlan. 

Whence earnest thou by this knowledge? Thou hast 

dealt 
With arts forbidden. Speak, I pray, and go. 
What is thy business with me? 

Ethel. 

Thy long quest 
Thou hast not yet performed. Thou knowest not 
The answer thou art seeking. 

Harlan. 

Beldame, there 
I have thee in the wrong. I know the thing. 

Ethel. 

So thou dost know what woman most desires. 

Harlan. 

The horrid witch ! she knows my inmost life. 
Woman most wishes to have her own way. 

Ethel. 

And wilt thou risk thy life on this reply ? 

Harlan. 
Why, so I will. 

Ethel. 

I tell thee thou art wrong. 
A woman's heart is higher tuned than that. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 45 

If I will tell thee now the answer true, 
Wilt thou here promise me to do to-morrow 
The thing that I shall ask ? 

Harlan. 

I will, unless 
Thou askest more than I have power to do. 

Ethel. 

Then hark, and I will tell thee. 

She whispers in his ear and darts off. 

Harlan. 

She is right. 
How meanly had I deemed of womankind ! 
But who comes here? It is my noble friend, — 
Egbert ! 

EGBERT, entering. 

Prince Harlan, I give thanks to heaven 
That I behold thee here. 

Harlan. 

Not more than I 
That I am now assured of thy return. 
But, fellow-soldier, how does life by thee ? 
Thou seemest as in trouble. 

Egbert. 

, No, not I. 

I never was so happy ; and my joy 
Is all a gift from thee. 



46 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Harlan. 

A gift from me ! 
Ha, ha ! thou hast not yet forgot thy jest. 
I think thou wouldst be merry on the block, 
Or at the altar. 

Egbert. 

Thou art guessing close. 
Rememberest thou the lady Winifred, 
Whom thou didst rescue and bring safely here? 

Harlan. 

The star-eyed maiden with the music voice? 
Who that once saw her ever could forget ? 
Dost thou too know her ? 

Egbert. 

She is my betrothed. 
Had it not been for thee we ne'er had met ; 
And I had missed of heaven upon earth. 

Harlan. 

Give me thy hand. Thou art a lover now, 

And knowest how I love. Betrothed ! O friend, 

Thy joy I grudge not, but I envy thee. 

Ah ! now thy face grows lighter. Tell me, pray, 

AVhat was the trouble overcast thee so. 

Egbert. 
Dost thou still love my sister ? 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 47 

Harlan. 

O ye heavens, 
Bear witness if in one least flitting thought 
My heart has ever ceased to worship her. 

Egbert. 

Thou canst not guess the joy thou givest me. 

Know that, with all a lover's list to wed, 

I may not till my sister is a wife. 

So I have sworn. Dost thou not catch my drift ? 

Harlan. 

Pardon my dullness, but I fail to mark 
How my continued love for her can help. 

Egbert. 

Why, man, wilt thou not wed her ? Does thy love 
short, content with loving ? 

Harlan. 

O my friend, 
Do not so trample on a lover's heart ; 
For what am I to her ? 

Egbert. 

U I can judge, 
Ethel returns thy love. — I thought perhaps 
It might be welcome aews. 



48 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Harlan. 

But still I doubt. 
Yet I will doubt not wholly, so assured. 
Oh ! tell me of her. Is she still the same? 
No harm hath come to her within the year? 
No illness ? Doth she ever speak of me? 
How can I wait until I see her face ! 

Egbi 

She often speaks of thee. Her health is good. 
But whether she has changed within the year 
I know not, having seen her scarce two weeks. 

Harlan. 

Of whom hast thou been talking ? Thou hast known 
Thy sister, surely, more than two short weeks. 

Egbert. 

Oh ! Ethel ? She is well. I think she is. 
I thought thou spakest of Winifred. But, come, 
To-night my father's house must shelter thee. 
There canst thou see my sister and ask her. 

Harlan. 

I may not go. My errand bade return 

In just one year ; and that to-morrow brings. 

Egbert. 

Then will I couch here with thee ; and the stars 
Shall listen while we talk of days foregone, 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 49 

And nights when thus we slept beneath their beams, 
Comrades in danger as to-night in love. 

They prepare to lie down in the grove. 

ACT V. 

SCENE 1, 
The King and Queen on their throne. Nobles about them. 

Queen. 

My lord, I think thou wonderest why to-day 
These ladies hold not revel in the wood. 

King. 
Why, what's to-day? 

Queen. 

The first of May, my lord, 
And blithe and bright as ever May-day shone. 

King. 

Why, yes, it is strange that they bide within. 
But, hold, to-day comes thine adventurer back, 
Or, rather, comes not. Many a good long mile, 
I'll warrant he has put behind himself. 
An errant knight ! An arrant knave he was. 
Why did I ever let him slip my grasp ? 
Another time I shall be suddener. 



50 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Queen. 

But, good my lord, the knight will come to-day. 
It is in waiting for him all are here. 
Then, if he answers not my question right, 
His life is forfeit, even as before ; 
And, ah ! I fear he will not answer it. 

King. 

And, ah ! I know thy scapegrace will not come. 

Harlan comes in. 
Well, I'll be blest ! The fools are not all dead. 

Harlan. 

Most gracious sovereign, gracious lady fair, 
I come to make report upon my quest. 

Queen. 

Thou hast returned upon the very day, 
Proving thy knightly honor; and I trust 
Thine answer will thy wisdom prove no less. 
Art ready now the answer to declare? 

Harlan. 

Most gracious lady, when it pleases thee 
I will reply with what poor wit I have. 

Queen. 

Then here, in this high presence, speak, sir knight, 
And tell what thing a woman most desires. 



A WOMAN 'S WILL. 51 

Harlan. 

What woman most desires is one to love. 

Queen. 

Alas ! thou hast not answered me aright. 
What woman most would have is her own way. 

Harlan. 

Most gracious queen, if I have answered wrong, 
I wait the penalty of my mistake ; 
But, if I can approve mine answer right, 
Shall it be counted for acquittal still ? 

Queen. 

Speak on ; it shall if thou canst prove it right. 

Harlan. 

The noblest creature of God's handiwork, — 

Standing in this fair presence, can I deem 

That noblest of God's creatures aught but woman? 

Queex. 

Thus far the ladies will gainsay thee not. 

Harlan. 

The noblest impulse of the human heart, 
Is it to love another or itself? 
May I presume to question ? 



52 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Queen. 

Without doubt 
It is to love another. 

Harlan. 

Then, fair queen, 
The deepest longing of the worthiest, 
What is it else than the most worthy longing, — 
Woman's desire for one to love? 

Queen. 

'Twould ill 
Become me in this presence to deny 
The praises thou to woman hast ascribed. 
For, if thine answer is not true, at least 
It ought to be ; it were far better true ; 
It shall be true henceforth. I here proclaim 
Thou hast made answer rightly, and art free. 

Harlan bows and is about to speak, when Ethel enters 
disguised as before. 

Ethel. 
Sir knight, the promise thou didst make to me. 

Harlan. 
Well, what wilt have ? I own the pledge I gave. 

Ethel. 
What dost thou own ? What didst thou promise me ? 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 53 

Harlan. 

I promised I would do for thee to-day 

One thing that thou shouldst ask, if so I could. 

Ethel. 

He owns the pledge. I bid thee marry me. 

Harlan. 

Good mother, thou art jesting. Pray, bethink 
This is no place for jests. 

Ethel. 

I do not jest. 
I have thy promise ; thou must marry me. 

Queen. 

Shame on thee, foul old woman. Seest thou not 
How wrong a thing thou askest ? Choose some gift 
Befitting thee. The knight will keep his word, 
But do not ask so base a sacrifice. 

Ethel. 

I have his promise, and I know my wish. 
What hinders that he should not wed with me ? 

Egbert. 

This is too horrible ! Foul witch, begone ! 
Here, take this gold, and get thee from our sight. 

Ethel. 

Take back thy gold. I've spoken my desire. 



54 A WO MAX'S WILL. 

Egbert to Harlan. 

Comrade, thou wilt not wed this horrid witch. 
Such promise is no promise. Bid her go. 
Think of my sister, and thy love for her. 
Thou canst not give this creature any love. 

Harlan. 

I cannot break my word, though hell should yawn. 
O heavenly face that smiled on me but now, 
Farewell, I must not look on thee again ! 
Thou fiend in woman's shape, here is my hand. 
My heart is hid where thou canst never reach. 

Ethel. 

Aha ! be not so sure. All in good time. 

She leads him out. 

SCENE 2. 

A room. Harlan comes in with Ethel still in disguise. 

Ethel. 

Well, husband, dear, how likest thou that new name ? 

Harlan. 

Husband ! Why, scarce in darkness of the night 
Have I dared even dream to hear myself 
Called by that name. I've tried to fit that word 
To her sweet lips ; but they would never speak. 
Woman, torment me not. I cannot guess 
Why thou hast picked me out to torture me. 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 55 

Thou knowest I loathe thee. Thou hast but my name, 

My love thou canst not win; for all my love, 

Yea, to a thousand-fold in bankruptcy, 

Is spent on one that I shall never see 

Never again. My life has ended here ; 

And I am dead ; and this is hell. One thing 

I'm thankful for ; — 'tis out of sight of heaven. 

Perhaps I shall forget ; in time, may think 

That this is heaven, that smoke is cooling breeze, 

And fire and ashes May-time violets. 

Fool, that I did not spurn thee when thou earnest ! 

I should have saved myself without thy words, 

And easier, and should have saved besides 

The heart that died when thou didst clutch on me. 

Yes, there is something more that I have gained ; 

I had not thought of that. No longer now 

Have I to fear her coldness. No more nights 

Of feverish doubt, and days of faltering hope ! 

The lover's pangs shall wring me nevermore. 

Oh, hapless lot, wedded to one I hate ! 

I never thought it might be so with her, 

Had I prevailed, and she accepted me. 

She now is safe from that fate, — at my hands. 

Might she have come to loathe me as I loathe 

This miserable hag, and yet must feel 

There's no release while beats the sickened heart ? 

If I knew that, I rather would be tied 

To this disgust, than have her heavenly self 

My hourly mate, smuggling up prayers for death. 



56 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Ethel. 

Thou makest rare long speeches, and it's time 
For my turn now. Thy words are strange to hear. 
Now tell me plain which thou wouldst rather have,- 
That I should be as fair as that slim lass, 
And loathe thee, but be still thy bounden wife, 
Or love thee, but be loathesome as I am. 

Harlan. 

Foul as thou art, I would not bid thee change. 
Even heaven may cost too dear. 

Ethel. 

Now think again. 
Picture her as when last she smiled on thee, 
Then look at me, and think I have the power 
To be as she is, but must hate thee so. 
Now wilt thou have her, stroke that golden hair, 
And bid those red lips kiss thee when thou wilt, 
But loathe thee, though they do not disobey ? 
Then look at me, and think upon my love. 

Harlan. 

What devil is in thy brain to tempt me so ! 
Thou art my wife, and she is safe from me. 
Not even she could tempt me wrong her so. 

Ethel, going up to Harlan. 

I never dreamed that human heart could love 
As I love thee. O husband, let me be 



A WOMAN'S WILL. 57 

Thy loving wife. Oh ! do not spurn me so, 
Else I shall die. 

Harlan. 

Her voice ! Whence comes that voice ? 
Oh ! I am mad, this grief has turned my brain. 

Ethel. 

I had forgot. Throws off her disguise. 

Dear husband, look on me. 
Am I not fair as she? She never dreamed 
Of love as I love thee. I am thy wife. 
Oh ! look on me. Must I plead for a kiss, 
My bridal kiss, and yet be frowned upon ? 

Harlan turns, and, seeing her, starts back ; then kisses her 
passionately. 

Harlan. 

If this be madness, let me ne'er be healed. 
Who whispers "doctor" is mine enemy. 
Wonder of wonders since the world began, 
To find that hell is heaven after all ! 
But, still I'm not so mad but I am sure 
That this is madness. 

Ethel. 

Harlan, — 

Harlan. 

So I heard 
My name from those lips that I saw in dreams. 

Kisses her. 
But long live madness if it bears such fruit ! 



58 A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Ethel. 

Thou art not mad. See here where lie the mask, 
The robes I wore when I was playing witch. 

She picks up the mask and holds it before her face. Harlan 
shudders, tears it off, and embraces her. 

Haul ax. 
For all the mask is off the witchcraft stays ; 
And much I fear I never shall escape. 
Now the old awe comes back. Tell, me, I pray, 
What thou art now to me. 

Ethel. 

Thy loving wife. 

They walk up and down with their arms about each other, 
Harlan venturing occasional caresses. 

love, I wonder thou canst smile on me. 

1 am not worthy of thy tenderness. 

Oh ! canst thou e'er forgive me? But, indeed, 
I did not doubt thine honor. What I sought 
Was to have all the world confess it too. 
But, is thy love so great that, after all, 
Thou canst forgive me ? Oh ! I blush to guess 
What thou must think of me. 

Harlan. 
I think thou art 
The fairest, sweetest, noblest wife on earth ; 
And when I see thy fault I will forgive. 

Egbert and Winifred, in exactly the same attitude as the 
others, come in without seeing them. 






A WOMAN'S WILL. 59 

Winifred. 

I've wept mine eyes dry. Oh! the poor, poor girl, — 
I know she loved him. 

Egbert. 

Yes, and poor, poor knight ! 

The two couples meet face to face. 

Harlan. 
Egbert ! 

Egbert. 

Ethel how art thou with him ? 
Where is that hideous witch, his wife ? 

Harlan. 

His wife 
Is here, and even more a witch than then. 

Winifred. 

Ethel, wast thou the witch ? 

Ethel. 

I am his wife. 
I had almost forgot about the witch. 

Winifred. 

Then, Egbert, now, — 



6o A WOMAN'S WILL. 

Egbert. 

Ah, dearest, now, indeed ! 
Maidens in white come in, surrounding the group, and sing. 
In truth and love, 
With light above, 
When the morn is bright, 
Let hearts unite, 
With joy thereof. 

Tell doubt good-bye, 
Bid sorrow fly ; 
The night is past, 
The sun at last 
Laughs in the sky. 

Bid blessing fall 
On bower and hall, 
Where lives that blend 
With joy may end 
As one day, all. 

For love is strong 
O'er guile and wrong, 
And hearts that weep 
Shall love make leap 
With dance and song. 



Additional Poems. 



LE LION COUCHANT. 

Camel's Hump, from Burlington. 

Majestic lion, stretched before the gate 

Of Morning, where all day thou keepest guard, 
Nor slumberest when over thee the starred 
Empanoplied constellations pass in state ; 

Still dost thou loom in heaven grim as great, 

Save when the tender Morning hath unbarred 
Her purple portals ; or when, o'er the scarred 
Sad earth, the Sunset smiles to bid thee wait. 

Crowned with the snows, the thunder at thy feet, 
Thou lookest down upon the centuries, 
August, immortal ! while below thee fleet 

Man's generations, and their agonies, 

Raptures, hopes, fears, defeats and triumphs greet 
Thy changeless calm with daily new surprise. 

BROWNELL. 

None e'er like him from war's resounding thong, 
Loosed the lean, rhyme-winged, thought-barbed 
shaft of song. 



62 ADDITIONAL POEMS. 

TO A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. 

Thou hast the antique beauty that slays men 

With utter longing. Such Greek Helen wore, 
Which drew a thousand ships the blue sea o'er, 
With all their hosts that sailed not back again. 

( \ blossom face, uptilted to the ken 

Of dazzled heaven ! What were stars before 
Shut their weak eyes ; the blanched moon -shines 

no more ; 
Noon, when thou steppest forth, was night till 
then. 

Oh, clouds and darkness ! Yet, if I but might 
Depict thy beauty as it shines on me, 
All after ages would extol its light, ■ 

And honor me forever, praising thee. 

Oh ! happy lot, to live in death's despite, 
Linked to thy beauty's immortality. 

OX LAURA'S PICTURE. 

This is the face that, over sea and land, 

Drew Horace more than mighty Rome at hand. 

KEATS. 

His name was writ in water, — and the dint 
Of pity froze the fickle waves to flint. 

His name was writ in water, — and has gone 
To every shore the wide sea touches on. 



ADDITIOXAL POEMS. 63 

OX MRS. PRIEST'S READING. 

The perfect orchestra its prelude made ; 

And then she read; next time the music brayed. 

OPPOSITION. 

Help in opposition find, 

As storm-clouds rise against the wind. 

PROPORTION. 

'Tis distance lends proportion to the view, 
And dwarfs all Asia to a suffering Jew. 

THE DYNAMITE GUN. 

A Prophecy. 

•• Love one another," loving Jesus said ; 
And, steeped in slaughter, still ye disobeyed. 

11 Make war no more ! " proclaims a murderous gun ; 
And lo! what Christ's commandment hath not done 
In twice a thousand years, is wrought in one. 
August 19th, 1S88. 



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